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Chapter 7
Ifhesurviveshewillbeanoldmanwhentheylethimout.
Ilivedthroughmytwenty-fourhours,andIhaveneverbeenthesamemansince.Oh,Idon’tmeanphysically,althoughnextmorning,whentheyunlacedme,Iwassemi-paralyzedandinsuchastateofcollapsethattheguardshadtokickmeintheribstomakemecrawltomyfeet.ButIwasachangedmanmentally,morally.Thebrutephysicaltortureofitwashumiliationandaffronttomyspiritandtomysenseofjustice.Suchdisciplinedoesnotsweetenaman.Iemergedfromthatfirstjacketingfilledwithabitternessandapassionatehatredthathasonlyincreasedthroughtheyears.MyGod—whenIthinkofthethingsmenhavedonetome!Twenty-fourhoursinthejacket!LittleIthoughtthatmorningwhentheykickedmetomyfeetthatthetimewouldcomewhentwenty-fourhoursinthejacketmeantnothing;whenahundredhoursinthejacketfoundmesmilingwhentheyreleasedme;whentwohundredandfortyhoursinthejacketfoundthesamesmileonmylips.
Yes,twohundredandfortyhours.Dearcotton-woollycitizen,doyouknowwhatthatmeans?Itmeanstendaysandtennightsinthejacket.Ofcourse,suchthingsarenotdoneanywhereintheChristianworldnineteenhundredyearsafterChrist.Idon’taskyoutobelieveme.Idon’tbelieveitmyself.ImerelyknowthatitwasdonetomeinSanQuentin,andthatIlivedtolaughatthemandtocompelthemtogetridofmebyswingingmeoffbecauseIbloodiedaguard’snose.
